The bacon apocalypse is upon us.

Friends, please take all necessary precautions.

Happy birthday, Papa Stein.  Have fun down in the ATL!

EDITOR’S NOTE: Happy Birthday Dan!

This is why we watch.

I went to the Celtics game last night thinking I’ve witnessed everything one could see at a sporting event. I was wrong (par for the course these days).  Arguably, this series could already be classified as the most competitive NBA series of all-time. It is the first playoff series to have three overtime games. These games have been draining, emotional roller coasters and last night was no exception; it was one of the best games I’ve ever been to.

During the pregame ceremonies, they played a video showing clips of Doc Rivers and some of the Celtics talking about the intensity of the Boston crowd. They talked about how loud it was and how they fed off the energy the crowd gave them. They spoke about how it was the loudest arena in the league. It really did a nice job in firing up the crowd for the upcoming matchup.

It has been a rough ride for the defending NBA champions. After Kevin Garnett went down with an injury, nobody really expected anything from the Celtics in the playoffs. He is their spiritual leader and defensive catalyst. The Celtic woes were exacerbated by the loss of Leon Powe and (forced) increased roles from Brian Scalabrine and Tony Allen. All the prognosticators predicted that it would be LeBron James’ Cleveland Cavaliers that would meet the Lakers in the NBA Finals, not the Celtics.

With 5:27 (nice) left in the game, Ray Allen fouled out. At that point, I thought the Celtics were done. The series was tied at two games each and they were down ten points in the pivotal fifth game of the series. Generally, the team that wins the fifth game of a seven game series goes on to win the series. I began to think about what I was going to write here about their season: I was going to compare them to last season’s Red Sox: a very talented team with too many injuries/obstacles to overcome. I was thinking that it just wasn’t our night (or our year, for that matter).

But then, amazing happened.

From that point on, the Boston crowd actually became louder than it had been for the first 3.5 quarters of the game. The crowd almost literally carried the Celtics to a 106-104 overtime victory. We stood for the better part of the rest of the game living and dying with every possession. I’ve been to some of the biggest sporting events you can go to and I’ve never been in a crowd like that before. It would not let the Celtics quit, nor fade. I honestly believe (faced with the same circumstances), if the game is played anywhere else, that the Celtics would have lost.

I always know when I’m at an epic game when my cell phone blows up with texts. It happened again last night. In an arena full of fans and stars (including McLovin and Captain Richard Phillips) where I could barely hear myself think at times, Paul Pierce overcame a rough start and rose above all. His clutch shooting lead his team to a 3-2 series lead.  It also served as a dagger that punctured severe holes in any hope of the Chicago Bulls advancing in the playoffs. He did what any captain (fitting that Captain Phillips was there) would do; He put his team on his back.

Never underestimate the heart of a champion. The 2008-2009 Celtics won’t go quietly into the night and they simply won’t die. They are a modern-day basketball Medusa. Just when you think you have them dead, they rise to their feet once more. They may or may not win the championship this year, but one thing’s for certain:

They will never stop fighting, even when all hope seems lost.

PHOTO CREDIT: AP

I have an unhealthy addiction to the NFL Draft.  One thing I will not do, is tell you how many hours I spent following the draft this past weekend on TV and Twitter.  One thing I will tell you is the best story of the NFL Draft is not about a New England Patriot, but about a man who was drafted by the Baltimore Ravens named Michael Oher.

Michael Lewis, the author of Moneyball, chronicled Oher’s story in his book The Blind Side.  I have a stack of about five books I want to read.  When I heard about The Blind Side, it rose to the top of the pile.  Oher’s story is one of those stories that re-affirms my faith in humanity and all that is good in our world.  He is an inspiration to everyone and is living proof that dreams really do come true.

Oher rose from being basically homeless to becoming a first-round pick in the NFL draft.  His father was murdered when he was in high school, his mother was a crack-addict, he went to 11 different schools during his first nine years of schooling, and didn’t even have an address until he was sixteen.

I had this big plan to write a wonderful blog entry about Michael Oher.  When I found this excerpt from The Blind Side, I figured that the best Michael to write about Michael Oher was Michael Lewis himself.

The passage below is from The Blind Side and starts with Oher and his friend Craig at an Orlando Magic basketball game:

As they found their seats, Craig asked Michael if he noticed the many people pointing and staring at him. Michael smiled and Craig could tell that he not only noticed but loved it. “What if you don’t make the NFL?” was the question Craig wanted to ask next, but he didn’t. Instead he asked “When you think you be ready for the league?” At that Michael laughed and said “I’m ready now.”

Craig laughed. The world might have changed, but his friend had not. “He’s the same guy,” Craig said. “Everyone say Michael got cocky. What they don’t know is that he was always cocky. He just didn’t show it.”

Still Craig thought Michael must be joking. He wasn’t.

“I could take Dwight Freeney right now,” said Michael, seriously.

Dwight Freeney played for the Indianapolis Colts. He was the most feared pass rushing defensive end in the NFL, and maybe the fastest the NFL had ever seen. He’d arrived in the NFL in 2002 with his 4.3 forty-yard dash and his wild spin moves, and quickly figured out where he needed to be: The blind side. Two seasons later he rocked the order of the football universe when he went by Jonathan Odgen and sacked the Ravens’ quarterback not once but twice. No one went by Jonathan Ogden — but Freeney did.

Freeney understood he was a man working in a tradition. When he was eight years old he’d seen a highlight film of Lawrence Taylor and right then and there knew who he was going to be when he grew up. “If you ask me to list my favorite players, I’d tell you L.T. and there be nobody second.” he said. Freeney took it for granted his job was to defeat the superstar of the offensive line. Best on best. That was his great strength: finding ways to win the most important one-on-one contest on the football field. And so when he heard there was this kid down in Memphis who thought he was on his way to the league and said he could “take Dwight Freeney right now” he just laughed and said “That’s the way he’s got to be.” But he was curious enough to ask, “Who is this kid?”

Dwight Freeney stood outside the Colts locker room sweating in his pads, helmet in his hand, and listened patiently to a summary of the brief career of Michael Oher. How Michael had been one of thirteen children born to a mother who couldn’t care for them, and so had more or less raised himself on the streets of Memphis. How he hadn’t reported to serious football practice until his junior year in high school — but by then he was six five, 350 pounds and had been timed in the forty-yard dash in 4.9 seconds. How his forty yard dash time didn’t really capture his speed: to appreciate his quickness you needed to watch him in short bursts. He he’d been one of the best basketball players in the state of Tennessee, and held his own on the court with high school all-Americans, and still secretly believed his natural position was shooting guard. How, on the brink of adulthood, with a measured IQ of 80, no formal education and no experience of white people, he had so insinuated himself into rich white Memphis that white people no longer noticed the color of his skin. How he was now six six and 325 pounds and the starting left tackle at Ole Miss, and a fair bet to be named to the all-SEC team at the end of the season. How, fast and strong as he had been at 350 pounds, he was faster and stronger now. How every day he felt a little bit less a lost boy and more a man with a mission.

Dwight Freeney understood the rules of the game. In the NFL, on the quarterback’s blind side, you came and you went. You had your moment when you played so perfectly in the sun that you were mistaken for the sun — and you were eclipsed. The summer before the start of the 2006 season was still his moment, and would remain his moment — until it wasn’t. Until he lost a step. Or got hurt. Or until the next Jonathan Ogden showed up and was maybe a step quicker, or fractionally more gifted, than the original. As he listened to the biography of Michael Oher, Dwight Freeney’s expression changed. He was no longer smiling.

“What’s his name again?” he asked.

“Michael Oher.”

“You tell Michael Oher I’ll be waiting for him,” he said, and walked into the locker room.

Good luck, Michael.  Even though you’re not a Patriot, I’ll be watching along and rooting you on.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Not much new to report on Miley, check back next week!

Sweep! (again)

Many people don’t know this, but there is a time machine in Boston at the intersection of Yawkey Way and Van Ness Street.  If you enter it, you can get transported back to your youth – to a time where life was carefree and easy.

Last week was a tough week.  I capped it off by heading to Fenway Friday night for some much-needed Fen-therapy.  To me, the game felt a lot like the 5th game of the 2004 ALCS.  It was the Sox/Yankees in a grueling extra-inning game.  Just like in that game, I was out in the bleachers living and dying with every pitch.  Kevin Youkilis launched a game-winning homer into the unseasonably warm New England air, and I felt like a kid again.  After that bomb, I danced the same way, in the same park, I did as a kid.

When I was younger, whenever I got home from the Red Sox game I’d watch the highlights on TV.  It was almost was like seeing the highlights on TV confirmed that all the great things I saw in Fenway Park actually happened.  For some strange reason, seeing the highlights made what I witnessed in person “real.”

After I arrived home from the game Friday, I threw on the TV and found the highlights on ESPNews.  Thanks to the magic of TiVo, I was able to rewatch those highlights on what seemed like an endless loop.

This is one of the many reasons why I love baseball: On a random night in April, it can help you remember what it feels like to be fifteen again.

Sometimes for a brief instant, it can even take you back there.

PHOTO CREDIT: Barry Chin, Boston.com

I read this on SoSH last night:

“Everyone is sick of Boston being the center of the entire goddamn sports universe.”

Sorry America.  To quote Bill Belichick, it is what it is.

New England Patriots: The Pats have exactly 830 draft picks in this weekend’s NFL Draft.  I love the NFL Draft.  I am an NFL draft geek and once spent a whole weekend in my dorm room watching the entire draft.  I think championships are won on draft day and I think rounds two and three are much more important than round one.

Boston Bruins: The current darling of the Boston sports scene.  They advanced past the first round for the first time since 1999 by sweeping the dreaded Montreal Canadiens.  This was a welcome change after suffering three straight playoff defeats at the hands of Les Habitants.  Next victim?  The New York Rangers.  Speaking of New York…

Boston Red Sox: After their 2-6 start, I posted on my facebook page that I thought that the Sox would win 95 games this season.  This was immediately mocked more than it was supported.  Since then, the Red Sox have won their past seven games and have become the hottest team in baseball.  Just sayin…

This weekend they host the Evil Empire for a good news/bad news series.  The good news is that the series is in Fenway, not the launching pad otherwise known as the new Yankee Stadium (or Coors Field East).  The bad news is that the Yankees will not be bringing their ace from last season, Cheng-Ming Wang.  Wang has had a penchance for giving up “long balls” and has ERA of 34.50 (not an exaggeration). 

A funny side note about C-M Wang:  He needs to throw 47 consecutive scoreless innings to get his ERA down to his career average (3.90).

Boston Celtics: Suffering injuries to Kevin Garnett and Leon Powe, the C’s smoked (understatement) ‘da Bulls in Chicago last night to retake home court advantage and gain a 2-1 series lead.  I was out for drinks with my friend Jackie and didn’t see much of the game (save for some squinting glances across the room at the ever-increasing Celtic lead), but thankfully, it looks like I didn’t miss much.

The rumors of the Celtic demise have been greatly exaggerated.

Don’t count out the champs.

Have a great weekend, everyone!  Make the most of every day.

Ding dong, the witch is dead.

It’s time for another “Miley Monday” update!  She’s been doing well and has had only one accident in the past three weeks.

Saturday, I took Miley to the vet for the first time for a checkup. She is usually fearless and it was interesting to see her actually afraid of something. Right as we walked into the vet’s office, she put on the brakes. Even though she had never been there, she knew that it wasn’t going to be a fun place to visit.

I took Miley to the same vet I used for my old dog Tiger. The vet had trouble with her name (he’s an older gentleman) and kept calling her “Molly.” The poor puppy is almost a year old and already has an identity crisis.  My mom calls her “Millie” and her vet calls her “Molly.”

Even though I hadn’t been there for about four years (Tiger moved three years ago), they remembered Tiger and mentioned how good of a dog he was. The vet’s assistant was surprised to see what type of dog I got. She said she thought I was going to get a pit bull (whhaaat?).

Miley did fine. As shown in the picture above, she wasn’t that comfortable on the examination table. Her legs shook and she had an uneasy look on her face the whole time. The vet did a full exam, took her temperature, gave her a shot and even drew some blood. Miley’s thirty-five pound body was given a clean bill of health. She was held by the vet’s assistant on the table and Miley was kind enough to give her kisses after everything was done.

The vet thought Miley was a “very nice” dog and probably already fully grown. As we were finishing up, Miley heard another dog in the waiting room and let out a loud bark. It startled the vet and he remarked, “Boy, she’s has quite a bark on her.” (that’s my Miley!). She was so happy to leave the vet’s office; I don’t think her tail stopped wagging until we got home.

As a reward for being so good at the vet, I took Miley up to Mr. Baseball’s house for a play date with his dog Jack yesterday. His house has a nice, large fenced-in back yard and the two dogs spent the better part of the afternoon chasing each other and wrestling. Miley loooooves to run and probably would run all day if I let her.

All in all, it was another good weekend for Miley.

Lastly, a bit of housekeeping: I’m going to be out of town over the next few days. I always get emails when I take a day off (it’s not easy writing every day, you know!), so I thought I’d give you guys and gals a heads up.

I’ll be back on my normal schedule later in the week (Thursday or Friday probably), so please check back then.

It’s on.  The quest for #18 begins on 4/18.

The Truth will hold down the fort until this man returns for the Eastern Conference Finals:

It’s JUNGLE time.

Go’s C’s!

EDITOR’S NOTE: Zdeno!

My favorite day in Boston is this upcoming Monday, also known as Patriot’s Day. Since Monday is Miley day here on TAM (tune in for a full recap of her first trip to the vet!), to stay on schedule I am writing about Patriot’s Day today.

Boston is the only place that celebrates Patriot’s Day.  It commemorates the Battles of Lexington and Concord which started the Revolutionary War.  Every morning on Patriot’s Day at around 6am, they re-enact the battle on Lexington Green.  Sadly, I have lived in the town next to Lexington for most of my life, but have never attended the re-enactment.  Someday…

Every Patriot’s Day there are two sporting events held in Boston: the Boston Marathon and the Red Sox play the earliest game of the season on that day.  Typically, the Sox start at 11am on Patriot’s Day.  When the Sox game lets out, the runners are passing through Kenmore Square (which is right near Fenway Park).  Patriot’s Day is a great day to spend in the city and is a true “Boston” day.  Monday night, I’m heading to the Celtics game and if I had more vacation time, I’d get tickets to the Sox game and make it a “marathon” day in the city.  It will kill me to be chained to my desk at work on Monday.

I love going to the Sox game on Patriot’s Day and walking down to Kenmore Square and watching the runners go by after the game.  I don’t watch the elite runners, but the regular folks that run by.  I love to see the effort/exhaustion in their faces, hear the encouragement people yell out to them, and to yell out some of my own encouragement to them.  Many of the runners have their names written on their shirts or on their arms so it is easy to call out to them.

I went to the Patriot’s Day game a few years back with my friend Lisa.  After the game, she had to go back to work but I wandered down and ended up watching the runners by myself.  I couldn’t leave and ended up staying and watching for about two hours.  I felt like if I left, I’d be letting all those people down that were trying to finish the race.  Seeing all those runners who were at the cusp of finishing the marathon was an amazing and inspiring sight.

Kenmore Square is right around Mile 25 of the 26.2 mile marathon.  It seems like that 25th mile would be the longest mile because you are so close to finishing, but yet ran so far to get there.  When you’re at Mile 25, it doesn’t matter how long it took you to get there, it just matters that you finish.

Have a great weekend, everyone!  Make the most of every day.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Happy Birthday, Euell!

This is one of my favorite times of the year. The Red Sox chicken littles are out crying about the team even though there are over 150 games left to play. The same people whining about them now will be singing their praises come the fall. One of my favorite pastimes is laughing at these people as they cry over April baseball. I think the 2009 Red Sox will win somewhere in the neighborhood of 95 games and their 2-6 (GASP) start will be but a memory six (!!) months from now when they are playing in October.

Springtime in Boston is infinitely better when the Bruins and Celtics make the playoffs. There is a buzz in the air and the New Garden/Shawmut/Fleet/TD Banknorth Garden/TD Garden will be rocking for the next few weeks (hopefully months). The buzz will spread to the subway, Dunkin Donut lines and the water coolers in offices all across the region. On Saturday, we get a rare Boston trifecta: The Sox, B’s and C’s are all playing at home on the same day.

The Bruins return to the playoffs tonight and I couldn’t be more excited. They have had a great year and clinched the #1 seed in the East. As fate would have it, the dreaded Montreal Canadiens (as the #8 seed) stand in their way of advancing to the next round. Forget the Yankees, the Canadiens are the original Evil Empire. They stand for all that is wrong with North America and pretty much the world in general.

Let’s face it: Unless if you are between the ages of 18-20 or completely love strip clubs, Montreal totally sucks. Mr. Baseball and I went for a weekend last year and we left completely underwhelmed. Save for the Notre Dame Cathedral, a Lebanese restaurant named Boustan and a smoke show bartender at the London Pub named Lindsay, every single thing in Montreal failed to lived up to the hype. Add in that French-esque attitude, and if I never go back to Montreal it will be too soon.

Montreal holds a whopping 24-7 playoff series edge over the Bruins, including wins in the last three series. In 2002, the Bruins were favored and Montreal won in six games. In 2004, the Bruins were the top seed (like this year) and were upset in seven games by the 8^th seeded Canadiens. Last year, in a very exciting series the #8 seed Bruins took the top-seeded Canadiens to seven games. It also is worth mentioning that the Bruins have only won one out of their last ten playoff series.

The Bruins’ terrible playoff history against a city with such a history of suck is really tough for this Bostonian to take. To combat this, I am doing something about it. I am throwing some of my highly-effective playoff attendance karma the Bruins way. I’ll be in the Garden tonight cheering the B’s on and this year, the outcome will be different.

Move over, Montreal. It is our time. It’s called Bruins and they want it more than you.

B’s in 6.